


To Be Enough

by edibleflowers



Category: Robotech, Robotech The New Generation
Genre: Comfort Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rand's crush on Yellow Dancer never quite went away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Set midway through New Generation.
> 
> This is crackfic, basically; I had a marathon re-watch of Robotech and this sort of sprung out of that. I guess I should feel weird that I'm writing porn of characters I fell in love with when I was 12, but somewhere along the way I forgot what shame is? Oh well.

Another long day of traveling broken up by yet another fight with the Invid: Rand was dog-tired and didn't care who knew it. He supposed that was why he'd bickered with Rook over dinner, leaving the others silent and tiptoeing around them; he knew it was why he dragged his tent away from the others', shielded from theirs by a clump of bushes and a rock outcropping. All he wanted was peace and quiet tonight.

He'd just finished setting up his tent when he heard footsteps in the soft grass of the clearing, and he turned to tell Rook to leave him the hell alone. To his surprise, though, Lancer stood there, pack tucked under an arm.

"Mind if I set up over here too?" he asked, so mild and innocent that Rand felt like a heel at even the thought of protest.

"No," he said. "Go ahead." He turned back, unzipping his own tent and tossing his pack inside, then following it.

Lancer's soft humming in the background was pleasant, he had to admit as he spread out his sleeping bag, tugged his shoes off, put his goggles aside. He couldn't remember exactly when it had stopped bothering him that Lancer was the true voice behind Yellow Dancer, the female singer Rand had idolized for so long. Then again, he'd never stopped to seriously consider the fact that Yellow had a throaty voice in the low alto range. Maybe he'd simply not wanted to see--

"Rand?"

Rand jumped back with a yelp, clutching at the open throat of his jumpsuit. Lancer grinned from the opening of the tent, his long violet hair hanging loose around his face.

"Don't _do_ that!" Rand gasped.

"Sorry," Lancer said, with an unrepentant smile. "You want to help me get some wood for a fire?"

With a brief sigh, Rand reached for his discarded shoes. How the hell did Lancer always manage to startle him like that?

* * *

It didn't take long to gather enough firewood to last throughout the night. They kept their fires low, as a rule, to avoid detection either by Invid or unfriendly humans, and Rand found plenty of fallen branches to use for kindling. His lighter was running low -- like so many of their resources, stretched to the limit -- but fortunately it didn't take long for the smaller kindling to catch, and soon enough he and Lancer were seated before the fire, heating tins of canned stew they'd taken from an abandoned warehouse a couple of days earlier.

"Feeling better?" Lancer asked once he'd finished his share.

The food was unappetizing, but Rand made himself eat anyway, knowing nutrition was necessary if they were to keep moving. He nodded, setting his mostly-empty can aside. "Just tired," he said, and folded his arms on his knees.

Lancer nodded. He was leaned back with his arms propping him up, gaze directed upward. After a moment he settled to his back, folding his arms behind his head for a pillow. "I know what you mean. I keep thinking how nice it'll be when this is all over, just so we can have a decent night's rest in a real bed."

Rand grunted in agreement. "I was thinking about going south," he said. "Somewhere warm, so I can just lay out on the beach for a while."

"What does Rook think of that?" Lancer asked. Though his tone was innocuous enough, Rand couldn't help a sigh.

"Don't know, don't care," he said.

"Oh, that's not true." Rand felt Lancer's glance more than saw it, and though it was getting darker, he was sure he caught an amused gleam in those blue eyes. "I'm sure her opinion means a great deal."

Rand shook his head. "Think what you want. She's made it clear she doesn't want anything to do with me."

He heard Lancer shift to sit up and move a little closer, but didn't look. "You really think that?" Lancer asked.

"Sure." Rand shrugged. "You heard her. She's always mad at me. Whatever I do, it's never right. Even when I save her hide, I don't get a word of thanks. Not that I'm expecting it, you know, just that it'd be nice."

Lancer rested a hand on his shoulder; Rand looked over at him now. "You have to admit, you don't thank her, either."

Shame and annoyance hit Rand at once, and he pulled away. "I need to sleep. We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow."

"Hey," Lancer said, this time grasping Rand's arm before he could stand. "Don't be angry."

"I'm not." Rand's throat worked as he looked back at Lancer. The man's eyes were impossible to read in the firelight; there was something there that Rand was a little afraid to see. For so long he'd crushed on Yellow Dancer -- and now Lancer was right here in front of him, confusing every impulse in Rand's head.

"What is it?" Lancer said, head tilted a little.

Rand didn't know what it was that drove him forward until his lips met Lancer's -- maybe loneliness, maybe need, maybe some inexplicable desire to stop seeing Yellow whenever he looked at Lancer. He expected to be pushed back, to be met with one of Lancer's gentle, enigmatic smiles.

But the kiss didn't end: not abruptly, and certainly not all at once. He felt Lancer press in closer to him, that hand sliding up his arm to curl around his nape, and the heated press of Lancer's mouth on his was sweet, so sweet--

Rand was the one to pull back first; a surprised gasp escaped as their lips parted, and he searched Lancer's eyes for a sign of recrimination. Lancer _was_ smiling, but there was nothing disapproving in it. The curve of his lips, sensual and intrigued, made Rand swallow hard. "Not that I'm complaining," Lancer murmured, "because believe me, I'm not. But are you sure?"

Swallowing hard, Rand nodded. He brought his hand up to touch Lancer's cheek, the skin smooth and soft -- Lancer shaved daily to maintain the Yellow Dancer image -- and inhaled deeply. "It -- this isn't because of Rook, or -- or anything like that," he stuttered.

"I get it." Lancer's smile was warm, sweet, and this time he was the one to steal a kiss, easy and light and full of promise. "It's an escape. That's fine, as long as we're still friends in the morning."

Something eased in Rand's chest, and he couldn't stop a grin now. "Of course."

* * *

They tumbled together into Rand's tent, spilling over each other like clumsy puppies. Rand sat up to zip up the flap; when he turned to look at Lancer again, he saw that the man had already begun pulling his bodysuit off, and the sight of that stretch of bare, pale-skinned chest momentarily arrested Rand's breath. He didn't waste another second sprawling on the sleeping bag, kicking off his shoes and winding an arm around Lancer's waist.

With a laugh, Lancer rolled them over until he was atop Rand, settled between his legs; there was heat there, startling and immediate, and Rand heard himself whine even as his hips rocked up to meet that delicious pressure. When Lancer reached up to the zipper of Rand's jumpsuit, Rand took it as permission, tugging down on Lancer's sleeves, trying to get him naked as fast as possible.

"Slow down!" Lancer laughed; one of his arms was trapped, tangled in the strap of sleeve, and Rand blushed even as he helped free the slender limb. Lancer was muscled, but in a wiry way, long and lean rather than heavily built; Rand felt coarse and dark next to him. Lancer's hand stole into his open jumpsuit then, traced over his chest, stealing Rand's thoughts and leaving nothing but heat and electricity; he pushed up to kiss Lancer again, hard, wriggling his arms out of his own sleeves at the same time.

They were both bare to the waist now; Lancer reached to undo the clasp of his slim belt, tossing it aside, then guided one of Rand's hands to where the zipper had stopped in the middle of his back. "A little help?" he asked, quirking a sly smile. Rand's throat worked as he pulled the zipper down as far as it went, just below Lancer's waist; he felt a gap there, but he didn't get a chance to explore, as the bodysuit peeled away like a shed skin.

Now Lancer sat up to work the fabric of it down over his hips, revealing black briefs that left nothing at all to the imagination. There was still some light from without, the banked fire flickering, and in the dim illumination Rand could make out the deep shadow of an astonishing erection. His throat gone utterly dry, he reached up, stroked a hand down Lancer's abdomen and over that bulge in the briefs. Lancer made a crooning sound; his head went back, the mass of violet hair flung shimmering down his back. The uninhibited, sensual reaction hit Rand like fire in his veins.

"God," he gasped; Lancer laughed at that, sounding hoarse and throaty and so like Yellow that Rand whimpered.

"Not even close, but you're sweet," he said, and lowered himself over Rand, kissing him again, hands propped on either side of Rand's shoulders. There was still plenty of room between them, and Rand took advantage of it to let go of Lancer and finish pushing his own jumpsuit off, kicking shoes off at the same time, not caring where anything went as long as it was out of the immediate vicinity. 

He'd barely managed to finish shoving the leggings of his suit down and off before Lancer dropped his full weight on him, startling a groan from both of them. So much heated bare skin, Rand barely knew where to start; his hands roamed over Lancer's back, feeling the skin smooth and soft -- except for a scar over his ribs, trailing towards one side; but Lancer tensed when Rand's fingers traced it, and Rand drew away. _Another time_ , he thought, and let his hands move down to push Lancer's catsuit lower, down past his thighs.

Lancer's mouth pulled away from his, and for a moment Rand twisted to pursue him, not nearly done kissing Lancer yet. With a laugh, Lancer shook his head and nudged Rand back so that he could finish undressing, tugging off one boot and then the other and then yanking the legs of his suit off. Impatient, Rand dragged him back down again for another heated kiss; Lancer hummed into it for a long moment before pulling back once more, but this time only for a moment, groping over until he found his pack where he'd dropped it earlier.

"How much have you done?" he asked, and Rand blinked up at him in confusion.

"What do you-- _oh_ ," as it suddenly made sense in his brain. Sex, of course, what else-- "I, I've slept with guys before," he said. "A guy. A while back, but I mean, it was good, I liked it--"

Lancer gave another of those low musical laughs and bent to kiss him again. "Figured as much, or you wouldn't be here, right?" His hips rolled, pressed into Rand's; Rand groaned and grabbed Lancer's ass, shameless, needing more of that delicious heat. He could feel Lancer's dick, an intense friction despite the layers of underwear between them, and suddenly all he wanted to do was mindlessly rub and grind and _come_.

Before he could roll them over to do just that, though, Lancer pulled back once more -- eliciting a gasp of sheer frustration from Rand -- and knelt up, hooking his thumbs in his briefs and slicking them down and off in one swift movement.

Rand swallowed hard. "What -- what do you want to do?" he managed to ask in a voice gone raw with need.

"Oh, I was thinking you could fuck me," Lancer said, and it would have been easy and casual if not for the hungry note deepening his voice to a growl. Need swept Rand in a sudden wave, and he swallowed hard and nodded.

" _Fuck_ , yes," he muttered. Lancer twisted and fell to his back, and Rand moved over him, reaching for the things he'd pulled from his backpack: a crumpled tube of slick, a couple of condoms.

Rand's eyebrow went up, but he grinned, even as he sat up and skimmed his boxers off. "You weren't planning this, were you?"

"Let's just say I like to be ready if opportunity knocks." Grinning, Lancer reached for Rand, fingers curling around his cock with no hesitation. Rand sucked in a sharp breath and all but collapsed onto Lancer.

"Careful," he breathed, laughing into Lancer's neck. "Been a while, I might--"

"That's the idea, isn't it?" Lancer murmured into Rand's ear, his voice so indistinguishable from Yellow's that Rand gave in, buried his face in Lancer's smooth skin, and let Lancer squeeze and slide and pull him towards the inevitable climax.

With anyone else, he might have felt embarrassed at his lack of stamina, but Lancer's other arm was around him, hand stroking his back, soft lips pressing kisses to his shoulder, his cheek, his ear. Shivering pleasantly, Rand lifted up to find Lancer's smiling mouth for an easy kiss.

"Now you can take your time fucking me, yeah?" Lancer said with a grin, and Rand laughed into his friend's mouth.

* * *

He had to take a breather after that, using water from his canteen to wipe off his belly and Lancer's hand, finding some wipes from his own bag so that his fingers would be clean. "Not the only one who came prepared," he grinned at Lancer, who laughed at him before rolling over to his stomach, arms curled under his pillow and one leg bent invitingly away from his body. Rand took in another breath, the air redolent of sex and sweat already, and took the crumpled lube in one hand before kneeling over Lancer's lean, long body. Beneath pale skin, wiry musculature stood out; unable to resist, Rand bent down to press his mouth to the soft skin between those sharp shoulderblades, drew his tongue down. The taste of sweat and salt excited him almost as much as Lancer's moan of pleasure, and he inhaled, grazed his teeth over one bony hip; then he pulled back and opened the lube to squeeze some over his fingers. If he waited any longer, he thought Lancer might explode.

Not that _that_ wouldn't be exciting too watch, too. His dick twitched, and he bit his lip and pressed his fingers to Lancer's opening, pushed in with one.

Lancer's shuddering gasp was a thing of beauty. "More," he muttered almost at once. "Come on, I need more, _please_ \--"

"Are -- are you sure?" Rand said, faint, but he was already complying, drawing back to align his fingers and press the index in alongside the middle. Lancer's reaction was electric; he pushed back to meet the slide, making a sound like nothing Rand had ever heard, one that went straight to his dick (already reviving, swifter than before at that throaty noise). "Oh, _man_ , you're so--"

Unable to articulate his thoughts, Rand leaned over instead, his fingers working in Lancer's body as his mouth found Lancer's shoulder again, mouthing at his spine, at a stretch of neck bare where his long violet hair had been flung aside. Lancer's hips pushed back to meet his questing fingers; though he couldn't move much in this position, the desperate little grinding motion was so erotic and needy that it made Rand's head spin. Lancer turned his head and somehow Rand found his mouth for another kiss, raw, urgent.

"Come _on_ ," Lancer breathed. His blue eyes had gone black with need. "I'm good, I need you in me so fucking bad, I'm dying--"

Rand barely had the presence of mind to tear open a condom and roll it on. Hissing at the tight latex on his erection, he knelt between Lancer's spread thighs again, sucking in a breath at the sight of Lancer spread out before him, skin pale even in the tent's dimness, his lean flat buttocks, long strong legs-- He swallowed hard and leaned forward on one hand, the other pressing his cock to Lancer's body, rubbing the head over his opening for a moment and then, there, the angle was just right and he could just let his weight guide and press him in... 

He wanted to go slow, to savor this impossible moment, but Lancer groaned and rasped: "Oh _fuck_ , come _on_!" and he couldn't, he just couldn't hold out an instant longer. He dropped his head until his forelock brushed Lancer's spine and drove himself deep.

He wasn't sure if the ragged cry came from his throat or Lancer's; maybe it was both of them moaning in unison. One thing he was sure of: he'd never be able to look at Lancer without remembering this moment again. Lancer just took him in, a dense, grasping heat holding him tight, and when Rand slid back just a little and thrust again, the sound Lancer made was raw and full of pleasure. 

"S-so good," he heard Lancer mutter, and he had to shift, then, resting his weight on his forearm so that he could slip the other hand between Lancer's belly and the sleeping bag, curling his fingers on Lancer's cock.

"Let's--let's see if I can make it better," he grunted.

It couldn't last; of course it couldn't. Rand had wanted this -- or something like this -- ever since the first time he'd heard a Yellow Dancer song on the radio. That voice, that sensual croon that had reached into him and made his heart ache: to hear it now gasping obscenities with every grind of his hips, every rock and push that buried him deep in Lancer -- it almost hurt, it was so good. 

Lancer shifted and pushed suddenly, twisting that lean upper body toward him. It took Rand's dazed senses a moment to catch on, but then he realized Lancer was moving so that he could see him and he lifted up to accommodate him, letting go -- reluctantly -- of Lancer's erection and resting again on both fists. This was even better; he could move perfectly this way, fucking deep and hard into Lancer's body, and at the same time he easily bent down and kissed him, rough, tongue desperate in Lancer's mouth. Lancer's own hand covered his cock now; when Rand lifted up to watch, to see those long slender fingers on Lancer's reddened erection, he thought he was going to lose his mind.

"Come on," he muttered, "want to see it, your turn, you gotta be goin' crazy--"

"Rand," Lancer gasped. Rand shifted again, somehow managing to cover Lancer's hand on his own cock. With a raw moan, Lancer jerked back hard against Rand and came, messy, spurting over their joined hands and the sleeping bag. Moments later, Rand followed, hips pushing in hard, arrhythmic thrusts as he flew over the edge after Lancer.

Lancer collapsed; helpless and limp, Rand went with him, his arm around Lancer's torso and cock still buried in his ass. For a little while, it seemed all he could do was breathe, taking in grateful gasps of air, his cheek pillowed against Lancer's shoulderblade. Finally, he managed to lift up, sliding himself back enough to separate from Lancer, and flopped to his back with a gasp.

With a low chuckle, Lancer turned, too, shifting to his back and tilting his head so that he could see Rand. "You all right there?"

"Better than," Rand breathed. "You?" He lifted his head a little, concerned, but Lancer was smiling.

"Haven't felt this good in a really long time." Lancer leaned up on an elbow, resting a hand on Rand's chest, and bent in for a soft kiss. "Though I'm thinking I ought to get back to my tent before I crash, unless..."

He trailed off with a raised eyebrow. A smile spreading across his own face, Rand reached an arm around Lancer's shoulders and tugged him down. "Unless I want you to stay? I'm askin'. Stay."

"All right," Lancer said, and Rand felt rather than saw the smile against his collarbone.


End file.
